


Makoto!!! On Ice

by MissMacaron



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, This Doesn't Really Have Anything To Do With Yuri!!! on Ice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 00:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMacaron/pseuds/MissMacaron
Summary: From a young age, Makoto Kino wanted to skate just like her idol, Lady Pluto, a.k.a. Setsuna Meiou. But now, she's out of the Junior's with no gold to show for it, more hours at the rink than she even thought possible, and the legacy of her idol far from her grasp. Just as she's settling into a slump and giving it up for lost, her friends, both old and new, are there to support her, even if their idea of support is different from her own. With them at her back, she can do anything, can't she?





	Makoto!!! On Ice

As a child, she was enraptured. Sitting before the television, leaning forward until her mother told her to stop, she’d ruin her eyes that way, Makoto Kino took in every detail of what she was watching.

_“And now, the gold medal goes to Lady Pluto, Setsuna Meiou!”_

Watching such a tall, elegant girl take the Junior’s World Championship was enthralling and inspiring. Even at a young age, Makoto was taller, lankier, and bigger than any of the boys she knew, and would be picked on for it. To say, she’d be picked on long enough for the boys to get acquainted with the true strength her frame held, and then they’d only talk behind her back.

“Okaa-san,” she’d said, pointing at the screen, “I want to do _that._ ”

Mrs. Kino initially brushed off her daughter’s interest; she’d shown such intense yet fickle attentions before, and no longer was the mother willing to invest the money in what would likely be a fleeting hobby. But then, one day Makoto came home covered in bruises, snow, and determination.

_“I’m going to be just like Lady Pluto!” she cheered as she glided on the ice in her cheap skates. Carefree, she skated circles and figure-eights, basking in the freedom she felt._

_“Oh yeah?” jeered a boy from the side of the pond. “Then we should call you Jupiter. ‘Cuz you’re so big!” he laughed._

_Makoto was on him in seconds._

Rather than answer her mother’s questions, the young girl stomped straight to her room. Mrs. Kino heard rustling, thumping, and creaking, but left her daughter to what she assumed was a temper tantrum until later. Upon entering Makoto’s room that evening, however, she was in for a surprise; gone were her daughter’s posters of celebrities, gone were her toys. Garbage bags of things laid at the center of the room, and upon closer inspection, Mrs. Kino saw they were full of things that had accumulated in the girl’s room over the years; victims of her flights of fancy that were never looked at again.

Makoto came in the room, having gone to the kitchen for a glass of water. When her mother asked what the meaning of this mass clean-out was, the child fixed her mother with a stern look.

“If I’m going to take gold in the Junior World’s like Lady Pluto, I’ve got to start getting serious.”

 

A tinny piano ditty played from her cell phone. Makoto groaned, rolling over and burrowing farther under her comforter, hoping the ring would play itself out and whoever had called would leave a voicemail. To her relief, after a minute, the music faded.

And started again.

She huffed and rolled back over, grabbing her phone from the nightstand and pressing “Accept” without reading the caller ID. At this hour, it could only be her coach. She pushed her hair, which had flopped in her face, out of the way as she answered.

“Hey, Coach, it’s my day off, don’t you think this can wait-”

_“Mako-chan! Come meet us at the boardwalk!”_

Makoto sat up, adjusting the falling strap on her tank top. “Usagi! Sorry, I thought you were Coach. Wait, why are you at the boardwalk? Did I forget we were meeting up?”

 _“No, no, Mamo-chan’s friends are in town, so we decided last-minute to all meet up! Besides,”_ Makoto could hear the tease in Usagi’s voice, _“Do you really talk to Coach Misha like that?”_

Makoto flopped back down. “Not this again, Usagi. Misha and Janelle are in a committed relationship, and-”

 _“Besides, you don’t think of him that way,”_ Usagi finished, having done this same song and dance with Makoto for years. _“Oh, Mamo-chan, how Mako-chan has grown! So mature! Not chasing after her skating coach anymore!”_

“Wuh!” Makoto sputtered. “Don’t blab about that to everyone!”

_“Nyeh, of course Mamo-chan already knows all of that anyway. Don’t worry, Mako-chan, Mamo-chan isn’t even here right now! He’s on his way with his friends.”_

Makoto sighed, relieved.

_“But everyone else is here!”_

A muffled, multi-voiced response came through the phone. Makoto groaned again.

“Th-the boardwalk, you said?” she rushed, trying to change the subject. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Don’t have too much fun without me!”

 

The crowd had grown by the time Makoto made it to the boardwalk. Mamoru waved as Makoto walked up.

“Well, look who finally made it! And here I thought you were too busy for the rest of us.”

Rei took his side. “Yeah, Mako-chan, you’re so busy these days. You barely hang out with us anymore!”

Makoto flushed red, eyes downcast. “Sorry, everyone. Since I left the Junior’s, Coach has been making me work a lot more.”

“Work at what?” One of Mamoru’s friends, the blonde one, spoke up. The other three and Mamoru looked at him. Mamoru opened his mouth to speak, but the tallest of them, a man with white hair, interjected.

“Did you not listen to a word Mamoru said when we were walking over here?”

The blonde one sputtered. “Well-well I _would have_ , if Zoisite wasn’t up my ass the whole time!”

Another of the men Makoto didn’t know, one with long brown hair, coughed into his hand. The noise sounded suspiciously like the word “phrasing”.

The blonde one blushed. “Whatever. Or, sorry. Or whatever. Anyway, work at what?”

“Ice skating!” Usagi gushed. “You’re looking at the silver medalist for the last Junior World’s!”

Makoto grimaced a bit, the image of the shelf covered in silver awards in her room coming to her mind. When she looked up, however, she met the gaze of the brown-haired one of Mamoru’s friends. He gave her a smile. “Congratulations.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “Tell that to my coach, he could stand to appreciate me a little more,” she laughed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mako-chan! Coach Misha practically worships the ground you walk on!”

A beat; the accidental implications of Usagi’s words set in.

“Uh! Um, I mean, that is, uh! Hmm…” Usagi looked to Mamoru for help. He laughed softly, but did deflect attention.

“Why don’t we start walking?”


End file.
